Jacob looks at Nimirea growing increasingly frustrated with the task. He knows very well that despite the incredible amount of random things in the throne room, which would suggest that the key has been hidden somewhere in this chaos, the real key is not here. But Nimirea doesn’t.

  Yet, the Leader of the Dark Champions keeps her frustration reigned in, probably not wanting to show the other two, Filr’etk Blackbounty, the red-skinned Goblin metallomancer with the huge sword, and Narfikara Warmfinger, the Dwarven gunslinger.

  The Golem is watching us, but he’ll not intervene, Jacob thinks to himself. What worries me is Nimirea. She’s not dumb. Yet, I suppose that the smarter you are the easier some tricks work on you.

  Jacob awaits for the right moment and…

  “Found something!” Narfikara shouts, drawing Nimirea’s and Filr’etk attention.

  “What is it?” Nimirea dashes over and takes a wooden box from Narfikara’s hand. It’s shiny and polished and when she opens it, there’s a key inside.

  Nimirea smiles smugly at herself and then at Jacob.

  There we go.

  However, when she goes up to the throne’s steps and tries jamming it into the keyhole, nothing happens.

  “It’s the wrong key,” Nimirea suddenly realizes.

  Jacob releases a theatrical sigh, throwing his head back with his eyes closed, muttering a few thankful words to the heavens.

  “Don’t worry,” Nimirea says, looking at him with narrowed eyes, “we’ll find the right one soon enough.”

  Now, as if by magic, a few keys start appearing. They just passed the one-hour mark and Jacob suspects that this is the Mithril Golem’s way to keep them occupied.

  At the umpteenth key that they find, Jacob shouts in frustration, “I’m done. This is too much. I’m not going to stay here and witness while you find the damn key.”

  Nimirea is not surprised by his reaction. Who would have enjoyed watching your archenemy slowly get closer and closer to winning right in front of your eyes while you’re forced to spectate and not act?

  “Where do you think you’re going?” The Leader of the Dark Champions asks.

  Jacob, who has gotten up and is walking back to the forge, shrugs, “I’m going to see if I can get any good scraps from that forge.”

  “If you’re throwing this, you have just lost the bet.”

  “Sure,” Jacob nods. “I’ll wait outside. I’ve sworn an oath for the bet, Nimirea. I’m not pulling back. But, technically, you haven’t won yet. So, keep up the good work.”

  “Whether we finish or not, you’ve already lost,” Nimirea shoots back.

  “Sure,” Jacob shrugs. “Now, do you mind? I’d rather do something productive with my time.”

  “Go look for trash,” Nimirea shakes her head. “I expected more from you.”

  “What can I say, I’m not the man you thought I was,” Jacob says, taking a deep breath. “Once you’re done, I’ll tell you all my plans.”

  Nimirea feels suspicious, but she reasons this through.

  If this is a ploy, as long as he doesn’t get close to the throne’s keyhole, there’s no chance that he’ll win. I’m starting to sense that there’s something more to this trial, but it doesn’t matter as long as Jacob loses. He swore to reveals all his plans to me, and, considering that Ytrial’s Academy is about to start the dueling bouts among the first-year students, he’ll have something planned. He knows the Dark Champions and I are coming for him and the others.

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  * * *

  “Lad, what are we—” Boomgar starts, but Jacob raises a hand.

  “Tear everything apart from the walls to the rest of the place. We’re about to get the key. It’s inside the metal.”

  “What?” Zibrek frowns. “How do you even know—”

  “Just trust me, as long as we’re quick, I have a plan that—”

  Jacob turns since he’s hearing a sizzling sound and sees a large bomb in Boomgar’s hand with its fuse burning worryingly fast.

  “Boomgar!” Jacob frowns, as Boomgar takes out three more of those and lights them up with the same fuse.

  “Lad, you want me to completely change my style of fighting. Aye, I heard ya. But I’m not giving up on blowing up things, alright? Let me have this. The explosion is more controlled than you think. Just… maybe raise a shield or two.”

  Boomgar throws the bombs to the sides of the chamber and puts his index fingers in his ears.

  Jacob raises as many Mana shields as he can, praying that this won’t kill them all.

  The explosion rocks the entire room, making Jacob’s teeth clatter, but, as Boomgar said, it’s strong enough to blow it apart but not strong enough to kill them. Still, Jacob finds himself coughing and choking on all the dust and debris that has been made airborne by the explosion.

  Yet, as the dust clears off, they see the unstable metal starting to stop and cool down. Soon, cracks appears on it and peels apart like an eggshell. Underneath it, a brass key appears, the same exact color of the throne.

  “Bingo,” Jacob says. “Now, you two, come closer, I’ll explain what we’ll do.”

  * * *

  The Mithril Golem hears Jacob Cloud speak and is currently speechless.

  He figured it out? Then why did he wait? What is he thinking?

  Worried that Jacob Cloud might actually pass this Trial, he starts calming himself.

  First of all, I have planned for the eventuality that he might be able to complete this Trial.

  The Mithril Golem has planned the third trial in a way that even Jacob Cloud and his Rainbow Skill would be stopped from completing it—almost certainly, at least. Now, even such an ancient creature is feeling the tiniest pangs of doubt.

  No. He still has to go through the girl. There’s no way he can do anything. The Dark Champion might be a slave to evil powers, but she’s not a fool. She will know that Jacob Cloud is plotting something.

  * * *

  Nimirea is growing more and more restless. Rafnov is a legendary figure, mythical even. He’s a cut above any other legacy she’s ever interacted with. Even Baalrek the Bastard doesn’t remotely compare to this legacy. Whatever is hidden behind the third trial is not something that even she would easily disregard.

  Yet, when she’s about to move an entire closet to look underneath it, a massive explosion rocks the chamber, making pieces of rock and dust fall from the ceiling.

  “What the—” Nimirea frowns. “What is he doing?”

  Immediately, she gets a sinking feeling in her stomach.

  Is this a ploy of his? She can already feel her blood boiling. Has he figured out something I didn’t?

  Even though it’s not even sure that that’s the case, she can already feel her face heating up. If he found the damn key, I’m breaking all his bones.

  Not long later, as her eyes remain glued to the entrance, she sees Jacob strolling casually inside the throne’s chamber.

  “What are you doing here?” Nimirea asks coldly.

  “Just taking a little walk to stretch my legs. We overdid it in the other room and joints are killing me from all the sitting.”

  Does he think I’m stupid?! What joints?! You’re a Platinum Ranker! You could take a damn sword through your chest and survive!

  “By the way,” Jacob says, making his way to the throne. “Let me take a look at that keyhole. I just realized I haven’t even gotten the tiniest glimpse of it. You know, maybe I could help you look for the key.”

  This absolute bastard has the key! Where did he find it?!

  “Stop him!” Nimirea says, assuming a fighting stance in front of the throne, ordering Filr’etk and Narfikara. “That idiot has the key!”

  “What?!” Filr’etk is consternated. “Where did he even find it?! Are you sure?!”

  “What key?” Jacob says innocently. “I just want to look at the throne. Why are you so agitated? Is it that time of the month?!”

  Narfikara quietly unholsters a large revolver from her belt and points it at Jacob.

  “It’s a pity that we couldn’t face you,” Narfikara says. “You’re an obnoxious, little bastard of a man to speak like that to a lady.”

  “Sorry, I was raised in a mine. No ladies there,” Jacob says with a wide grin, unsheathing the sword from his belt.

  “I can’t wait to humiliate the smug Fake Champion,” Filr’etk laughs hysterically.

  “I’ll teach you the right manners when speaking to a lady,” Narfikara says, pulling back the revolver’s hammer with a click.

  Jacob puts a hand on his face, slowly from the forehead down to his chin. As the hand passes across his face, a tattoo-like skull appears overimposed on his face.

  “I would love to see you try,” he replies with a deep voice.